Quiet.
Far too young to understand why bedtime stories stopped, or why lunches suddenly had to be packed by someone who came home smelling of diner grease and exhaustion.
I worked double shifts at a roadside diner that never seemed to close, attended night classes I could barely stay awake through, and taught myself to braid hair from blurry internet tutorials at two in the morning while my hands still trembled from serving customers all day.
I signed school forms I didn’t always understand.
I attended parent meetings pretending I was older, steadier, and more capable than I actually felt.
And somehow, I held her world together.
For years, it was only the two of us.
Bills, birthdays, scraped knees, school performances.
No parents. Familycounseling services
No support.
